Beautiful
by rockstarpeach
Summary: Castiel temporarily takes on a different form, because he thinks it might make it easier to be honest with Dean, and tell him something he thinks he needs to hear.


Title: Beautiful

Pairing: Dean/Cas, kind of

Rating: PG

Summary: Castiel takes on a different form, because he thinks it might make it easier to be honest with Dean.

A/N: Written for the prompt -_"Man is least himself when he talks in his own person. Give him a mask, and he will tell you the truth." - Oscar Wilde_

***

Things hadn't changed much for the Winchesters since Sam had freed Lucifer from hell. They still fought, killed demons, tried to help people. Sam was still strung out, they were still exhausted and beat down. Castiel was with them now, unable to return to his brothers and sisters after his disobedience, and together they hunted Lucifer.

They were busy, evil was spreading quickly, and Lucifer remained cleverly hidden, but Castiel had faith that they would find him, that Dean would fulfil his destiny and destroy him.

Tonight, after a particularly bloody afternoon, Dean had suggested a rare night off. He had insisted that Sam looked like hell, and that they should take some time to chill, have a little fun, or else they would forget what it was they were fighting for. Castiel actually found that he agreed with that idea. It had been months since either of the boys had done anything purely for pleasure, months since they'd rested, and they needed to be fresh and strong if their side was going to win this war.

Dean and Sam had gone out, a bar down the road from their current motel, probably to drink enough alcohol to forget everything else that was going on in their lives. And while Castiel did not approve of that specific form of rest and relaxation, he did understand their need for it.

What he did not understand, at least not fully, was his need to give Dean anything he desired. He saw nothing that might explain why he pandered to him the way he did, why he had betrayed everything he knew for him, why he continued to look the other way when Dean defied their order, when he acted like he knew better, and put his brother before the welfare of Heaven and Earth.

No reason for these, but the love he felt for the man.

He had become aware, quite some time ago, that his feelings for Dean weren't strictly those of an angel for his charge. Dean was aware too, he was certain, and he knew that Dean's feelings for him were equally… complicated. It was there, plain as day, in the long looks they shared, the brief touches. In Castiel's overpowering desire to please Dean. In Dean's broken-hearted disappointment when he felt that Castiel was betraying his trust, when Dean thought he had learned for the first, second, fifth time, that Castiel didn't care about him as much as Dean had thought.

Their affection was obvious. Castiel loved Dean, and anyone who looked at them would be able to see it. He wasn't as trained at hiding his emotions as Dean was, having not experienced them before. Not the type that resulted from being inside a human host, anyway.

He loved Dean, purely and truly, had thrown away everything to help him, betrayed his brethren and invited certain death, simply because Dean had asked, and Castiel could deny him nothing. The fact that it was also the right thing to do was inconsequential. He had done it for Dean.

He wasn't entirely sure what to make of the feelings, what they meant or what to do about them. What he did know, was that Dean deserved to hear the truth. He had no plans to confess his love, Dean would likely choose not to believe him, or would blow off the confession with a joke, but Dean deserved to have someone tell him that he was beautiful and good. That he had worth beyond being a soldier for Heaven.

Castiel's feelings for Dean were not sexual, he didn't think, but he had no doubt that Dean would get the wrong idea if he tried to tell him that he was the most incredible human he'd ever witnessed.

So Castiel made a decision, placed himself on the bed, the one that Dean had been sleeping in for the past two nights, and made his body comfortable, before leaving it. He watched the vessel for a moment, unconscious, but alive, peaceful. Jimmy was still in there, soul pushed to the deepest recesses of the mind, where it would remain, unknowing, unseeing, until Castiel was finished with the body, and the soul was called home.

He acted quickly, suddenly nervous and unsure if he was doing the right thing. No, that wasn't true. He was certain he wasn't doing the right thing at all, but it was something he _needed_ to do. He went to Dean.

He found him sitting at the bar with his hands around a bottle of beer, and not looking at all like he was relaxing, or having any fun. Sam wasn't with him, and a quick glance around revealed the younger brother in a far corner, pouring over a newspaper, no doubt looking for clues, for signs, for freak natural disasters and unexplained plane crashes or collapsed buildings.

There was a man sitting a couple of places down from Dean at the bar, blond and attractive, if short, shorter even than Jimmy. He had soft-looking, tousled hair, almost like Sam's, with bright blue eyes and a kind face. He looked about Sam's age, maybe even a little younger, and nothing like Jimmy at all. He would do.

He sucked in a breath upon materialising, whispering a comforting stream of non-words to soothe his temporary host. He'd never possessed someone who he hadn't previously asked for permission, and it was only natural that the man would panic slightly. But he immediately let the man feel his grace, warm and calm and powerful around him, let him feel that he meant no harm, and the man immediately relaxed.

He got up from his barstool and moved closer to Dean, sitting down next to him, and watched him. He was keeping to himself, hunched over his drink, and Castiel could see the tense line of his shoulders, high and tighter than normal, and Castiel felt his borrowed stomach clench.

Dean looked up to signal the bartender for another drink, and when he did, he must have suddenly noticed there was someone sitting next to him, because his head jerked, and he nodded absently, a hollow 'hello', and turned to face the bar top again, without even really looking at him.

That was sloppy of him. Castiel could have been anyone, any_thing_, and Dean should have been paying attention. It was apparent that he needed a little bit of time off more than he knew. If he was this tired and distracted, he wouldn't be in any shape to face Lucifer, when the time came.

Castiel opened his mouth and reached out his hand, touching Dean on the arm to get his attention, and when Dean looked at him, the words came out before he had even considered them, more reflex than conscious thought.

"You're beautiful," he said, surprising himself by how different his voice sounded than the one he was used to. It was higher slightly, but still came out in a gruff rumble. It sounded awkward, not right. Nothing about being inside this body felt right, and he was struck, sharp and hard, with the knowledge that he'd chosen the proper vessel to hold his spirit when he'd chosen Jimmy Novak.

He hadn't realised, until the words had come out of his mouth, unbidden, that he had needed to say them just as much, probably more, than Dean needed to hear them. It wasn't what he'd meant to say, had simply wanted to start a conversation, or try to, because he'd never been very good at those, and let Dean know that someone had noticed him, that someone recognised how special he was, and wanted to talk with him.

The more he thought about it, the worse he knew this idea was. Castiel was not good with words, and Dean wasn't the type to accept compliments from strangers that weren't likely to wind them in bed with each other.

Dean looked at him, crooked smile, and friendly eyes, even as he let out the smallest of mocking snorts. "Yeah, thanks buddy, but I don't swing that way," he said, and Dean's voice drifted over him, warm and smooth, and gooseflesh pebbled Castiel's arms and the back of his neck. It was the first time he'd had that exact reaction to Dean's nearness, and he could only assume that his current vessel had something to do with it.

The man (he didn't ask his name, didn't check, and he felt a twinge of guilt for that, for not asking if this was okay, just taking and using) must have been attracted to Dean, at least in some small way. It was the only explanation.

Dean's drink arrived, and he turned his head to thank the bartender. Castiel should have left then, shouldn't have come in the first place, but again, without thinking, he spoke. "I don't believe you."

"Look, buddy," Dean said, snickering a little, wearing that expression that Castiel had learned meant Dean was somewhere between amused and impatient. "I told you, I…" And then he trailed off when he turned his head around again, and really looked at him, for the first time.

"Don't swing that way," Castiel quoted back, "I know." And really, he did know, but he knew that Dean had made an exception in Castiel's case, at least abstractly. But he shouldn't have said anything, it didn't matter, because Castiel didn't 'swing' any particular way, and Dean's sexual proclivities were none of his business.

He couldn't afford for them to be.

"I'm sorry. I shouldn't have said anything," he apologised, as he tilted his head and frowned slightly, wondering why Dean was still staring at him, why he'd abandoned his sentence partway through.

"I merely wanted to say…" And then Castiel saw the look on Dean's face, the exact moment Dean's expression changed, the moment Dean looked into his eyes, blue and sparkling and not at all like Jimmy's. But Dean could see something deeper in them, familiar and safe and terrifying, and a brief flash of recognition crossed his face, and Castiel could see him visibly shiver.

If Dean knew it was Castiel he was talking to, he gave no clue. Other than an obvious sense of familiarity, a feeling of vague attraction, as well as confusion, he couldn't have said what was going on in Dean's head. He could feel things, sense things, but he couldn't read minds, not unless he was possessing someone.

"Yeah?" Dean asked when it became clear that Castiel wasn't going to continue. His voice came out with a slightly breathless hitch, almost expectant, but he remained irritatingly casual. He always did.

And then Castiel kissed him.

Again, spontaneous and unthinking, just leaned across the space between them and pressed his lips to Dean's. Dean didn't react, not really, but he did open his mouth just enough to suck a tiny gasp of surprise, and Castiel used that opportunity to deepen the kiss. He was respectful, not in any way obtrusive, not unless he counted the fact that he was using a strange man's body to kiss another man, uninvited. He didn't push his tongue into Dean's mouth, like he knew people did, but he shifted, tilted his head up, interlocked his lips with Dean's.

Dean had closed his eyes with the first touch, but he opened them now, and Castiel waited a beat before pulling back. And when he did, Dean followed him. Only a few millimetres, and only for a split second, but Dean had been reluctant to let go.

The previous sick feeling in his stomach changed then, turned light, sort of tickled. Naturally, he scowled. Every thought, every emotion, every physical sensation, seemed to be amplified. This vessel was inadequate, hard to control, wilful, and obviously prone to flights of fancy.

He could think of no other reason for acting the way he had in the past minute and a half.

'_Sure_,' popped into his head, or possibly David's head. He was almost having a hard time defining the line, due to David's wilfulness. Castiel had made it quite clear that he hadn't asked for his name, but that didn't stop the man from offering it. '_If that's what you've got to tell yourself_.'

And then Castiel knew it was David, ('_call me Dave, really_,') because he wouldn't have ever thought something like that. He had never thought along these lines regarding Dean, never… wanted or craved the way he was now. Or wasn't. Because it wasn't him. It didn't make sense.

'_I don't know who you think you're trying to fool' _

'_I didn't ask you' _

'_But you want that guy. And he wants you.'_

'_I love him, but I don't want…'_

'_Yes, you do. But you're probably right, that you're better off keeping it platonic.'_

Castiel roared, loud and booming inside David's (_'Man, really, it's Dave'_) head. Demanded not to hear anything more from him, insisted he didn't understand, and therefore could draw no accurate conclusions about his relationship with Dean. He ignored David ('_Dude, if you call me David one more time…'_) and his insistence that every feeling, emotional and physical, had been his instead of the human's.

And then he apologised. This was not David's fault.

'_Okay, that's it. Dave, dude. Dave. Get the hell out of me. Now.'_

'_I'm sorry.'_

Dave (_thank you_) had not asked for this, had not volunteered or even given consent. He'd been forced, and he was only trying to be honest. It was throwing Castiel off. He hadn't ever had a conversation with Jimmy (he'd learned to call him 'Jimmy' the hard way as well) while they'd been one, and Castiel wasn't used to a host having this much awareness.

"I'm sorry," Castiel said out loud, Dave's voice sounding sure and steady, even though he felt neither of those things. "You told me that you're not…" And then Castiel took three quarters of a second off from the conversation with Dean to threaten to banish Dave to a place where even Castiel wouldn't be able to hear him if he didn't stop with his advice. Dave managed to get off a mental smirk, and a teasing, '_you so love him'_ before he knew that Castiel was completely serious, and voluntarily quieted.

"No," Dean agreed, shaking his head a little, sitting up straight and taking a sip of his beer. "No, yeah, I…" He paused, swallowed down nothing, took another drink. "You wanna stay for a drink?"

Dean's eyes went from the empty bar in front of Castiel, to his own half finished beer, to the bartender who had been watching them, clearly wondering what would happen between the two attractive young men who couldn't seem to keep their eyes off one another.

"I should go," Castiel said, and with a tick of his eyes warned Dave not to even think anything. Castiel didn't want to hear it.

"Yeah," Dean agreed, shaking his head quickly, lips pinched together, and eyes closing briefly. It would have looked casual, if Castiel had been particularly slow. "Yeah, you should… you know. And I've got…"

Dean tossed his fist over his shoulder, thumb out and pointing to Sam in the corner, and Castiel felt a rush of jealousy at that, at Dean expressing interest in someone that wasn't him. It was just Sam, and it shouldn't have bothered him, and he wasn't going to dwell on why it did. He was going to ignore it, and move on, and take away from this the knowledge that Dean had been told he was beautiful, and that Dean had wanted to kiss him. Even if he didn't know it was him.

'_He totally knows it's you. Are you some kind of special retarded?'_

'_Did I not ask you to keep your opinions to yourself, David?'_

'_Dave'_

'_Which one of us do you think is in charge here?'_

'_You're so full of it. You wouldn't ever do anything I didn't want.'_

'_You have faith. I like that.'_

'_Yeah, well,' _and Castiel actually shivered at the feeling his host sent through him_. 'Call me when you're done with that Jimmy guy.'_

'_That was inappropriate.'_

'_And you using me to mack on pretty, lonely boys, drowning their sorrows over a Miller, isn't?'_

'_That's not why I… I'm almost finished'_

'_Hey, do what you gotta do, pal. Dude is cute!'_

"Yes," Castiel said, through Dave, ignoring his crude comments. "You have someone. I shouldn't have assumed." He waited several seconds, Dean staring at him the whole time, and Castiel looking back through Dave's eyes. He didn't look different exactly, but perhaps more clear, and Castiel had to wonder what Dean would look like when he got back, into Jimmy's body, and things were normal again.

Would Castiel still feel this way, think these absurd things?

Castiel stood, nodded at Dean, tried his damndest for a smile, but was sure it came out more of a wince, and turned around, started his walk toward the door, ready to leave Dean behind, at least until later that night, after he'd inevitably hooked up with some buxom blonde, or redhead, and stumbled his way back to the motel, with Sam on his arm. Always Sam.

"Wait," he heard Dean's voice through Dave's ears after three and a half steps. And no, he wasn't counting. He stopped walking, but didn't turn around.

"Cas?" Dean asked, and Castiel turned, not even questioning the action. Dean had called, he was compelled to answer.

He looked at Dean, and Dean looked back, quirking up his lips in a lopsided grin that melted Castiel's insides, even before he spoke his next words.

He lifted his eyebrows, looked at Dean and waited for him to speak, not saying a word about the fact that Dean had known exactly who he was.

"Why couldn't you have picked that brunette over by the jukebox, with the nice rack?"

Castiel smiled, or possibly Dave did. "Goodbye Dean."

"Yeah. I'll see you later."

Castiel nodded, and walked out the door, making sure to instruct the cab driver to take him to Dave's address, and ignore the fare, _('hey, thanks man', 'it is the least I could do'_) before departing that vessel and waking up inside Jimmy.

He needed some time to think, before Dean got back.

END


End file.
